


Restraint

by wendymarlowe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Established Relationship, M/M, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:50:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymarlowe/pseuds/wendymarlowe
Summary: Sherlock is good at tying John up, because he's good at everything. John doesn't mind.(This is 100% smut and was the product of "I should adult but I really want to write something sexy first." Sorry not sorry.)





	Restraint

Sherlock worked with a frighteningly intense look of concentration on his face. John, on the other hand, was having trouble concentrating on anything at all.

“Good?” Sherlock asked, tightening the last knot.

_“Goodgoodgoodplease…”_ Sherlock, the overachiever, had obviously been studying up on rope bondage. John hadn’t been sure about this when Sherlock first proposed it, but it had taken embarrassingly little convincing until he gave in and let Sherlock tie him up. Not all the way - in deference to the scarring on John’s shoulder, the ropes were below the waist only - but John had been hanging onto the headboard of Sherlock’s bed with a death grip for ten minutes now because if he let go he’d probably tackle Sherlock into some sort of sexual activity before Sherlock finished experimenting.

Sherlock finally sat back on his heels and took a minute to admire his handiwork. “Beautiful,” he breathed. “John, seeing you restrained, your body so ready for me… _ngh._ I’m going to fuck that lovely arse of yours until you’re crying for it. Just imagine your hands are cuffed too.”

It wasn’t hard to pretend. Sherlock had bound John’s thighs to his calves and then did a whole special maneuver affixing his feet sole-to-sole. A loose rope ran from John’s left knee, up over his back, and through a loop on his right - if Sherlock pulled on the rope, John would be quite literally find himself trapped in a frogtie with his face smushed into the mattress. Sherlock fingered the end of the rope now, assessing.

“Fascinating,” he eventually declared. “Did you know your erection grows in direct proportion to the angle I affix your legs in? All it takes is a little tug to nudge them wider, and…”

The way John’s pelvis bucked was entirely involuntary. He’d probably have come already, if Sherlock’s diabolical ropework hadn’t kept John’s cock from anything resembling even the tiniest hint of stimulation. Right now it dangled in the air between his bound legs, twitching and dripping, and there wasn’t a damn thing John could do about it unless he let go of the headboard.

“Sherlock, _please,_ ” John groaned, and gripped the wooden slats tighter.

“You like this.”

“Excellent deduction, that. Truly you are the greatest mind of this generation.”

Sherlock chuckled. “I don’t think you’re so concerned about my _mind_ right now, John.”

_Is that bloody so?_ John thrust his arse higher in the air, as best he could with his legs immobile and his prick so hard he could barely see straight. “Thought you’d have deduced what I want by now,” he grumbled.

“Mmmm. You said you’ve never come without direct tactile stimulation of your penis, correct?”

“Yes?”

“Excellent.” Sherlock leaned over John’s sweaty back to place a kiss directly between his shoulderblades, then sat back up and flashed him a manic smile. “In that case, let’s start with the riding crop.”


End file.
